


Waiting

by scalphunter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, CT-7567 | Rex Needs a Hug, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Old CT-7567 | Rex, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), References to Canon, References to Depression, Sorry Not Sorry, references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28411563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalphunter/pseuds/scalphunter
Summary: He is an old man now; not through vanity but he feels it in the way his body is slowing down on him. Still as solid as he was, the muscle of a veteran still packed around his arms and middle; except his eyesight as begun to slip.The unrelenting glare of the sun hours on end on a farm will do that, he supposes.He squints.The figure refuses to move, so much so Rex blinks the thought of it not being real away until he convinces himself that he isn’t senile, not yet anyway.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Waiting

He stays where he is on the wooden step of a porch, shadowed by the darkness of a setting sun, hand resting on the hardly used long-blaster. It’s warm, the air is muggy and sometimes it makes it hard to breathe when the nightmares come as they always do, at least that hadn’t changed. He doesn’t sleep much anymore, not since the galaxy around him burnt down to reddish embers of what it used to be. He doesn’t know if Ahsoka is still alive – the last he saw of her she was happy waging war on encampments, trying to break down the Empire with the righteousness of a Jedi. She isn’t one, that’s what she told him, and yet Rex had looked at her in the low blue glow of a holo-terminal and saw exactly that – a _Jetti._ Someone who retained an essence of hope, the last person he really believed in when the distant panic and loneliness settled into that space behind his ribs.

He sighs.

He swore himself away from all of that.

He argued with her.

All she did was reach out to him, tears pushing to spill, and he knew he couldn’t – not anymore.

Waiting.

A long time ago, he could wait in trenches for ages for the perfect strike, because _Anakin –_ Well. A long time ago, Rex had more patience.

He is an old man now; not through vanity but he feels it in the way his body is slowing down on him. Still as solid as he was, the muscle of a veteran still packed around his arms and middle; except his eyesight as begun to slip. The unrelenting glare of the sun hours on end on a farm will do that, he supposes. He scrubs a hand through bristly grey to white hair, the blond all but gone now, another little change he simply adjusted to. He settles his hand on his thigh, just above his knee, feeling the weather worn greaves, and leans into an easier position if he is required to use his blaster.

He squints.

The figure refuses to move, so much so Rex blinks the thought of it not being real away until he convinces himself that he isn’t senile, not yet anyway.

‘You want a drink, I don’t have anything much aside from a tankard of Meilroon juice’ he calls, and analyses the figure as closely as he can given the fragmented information he has and the possibility his mind is playing tricks on him. He calculates the height and shape of the other individual, the silhouette looks human that much is obvious to him. 

The hand resting on the long-blaster slides until he feels the cool-smooth of the trigger at his fingertip without looking. The safety stays off. Always has. He doesn’t trust people these days. He made a promise to himself that once he removed his armour completely, set down his blasters, that he would never want to fire a shot at another being unless there was a significant call to do so; he didn’t want to be another pawn in a scheme _– again,_ a whisper, like a wasp in his ear says. The voice sounds like Cody.

He hasn’t heard Cody since before their very final goodbyes as the Commander set to leave for Utapau and Rex had jokingly told him to -

 _‘hurry up or we will win the war without you…’_.

Rex remembers the challenging grin Cody sent him before it was covered by his orange and white bu’cye, and he walked off in the opposite direction to Rex to where the transports were for the 212th. His memory forges the face of the vod, and his heart is heavy as his mind recreates the ridiculous rebellion Cody had for not wearing the ARC Command armour, of not wearing the kama. Commander Cody was a perfect little soldier, even as he wore his difference with a pride Rex could never perceive.

_Good soldiers follow orders._

Rex is very tired.

It took a while after the order rang across the galaxy for him to see just how alone he was. He had Ahsoka, he loves her and always will, but he couldn’t cage her to his misery, couldn’t stop her going after bounty hunters and slavers.

The shame creeps over him silently when he thinks of his decision to go their separate ways. It wasn’t as if he did it without thought, he was just so very tired, and for once, as the universe began to realign, he could make a choice. For himself. For once.

‘You know, I almost couldn’t believe it was you’ the voice rolls through the air, tumbling and older and wiser of a voice he knows. Of a voice, that is like his own, with more gravel and the ash of destroyed stars inside.

‘Hunter’ he clarifies, if only for himself as the man takes a few measured steps and finally, _finally,_ Rex can see the man.

He hasn’t aged well, as if any of them have and that is a bad joke, and there is something sharp about his eyes. He isn’t the same man he was all those years ago, then again neither is Rex.

He doesn’t relax his finger on the trigger. He doesn’t _know_ why Hunter is here, or how he found him, so he relies on the instincts he still has and simply waits.

‘Hello Captain’ he says, slowly advancing, and Rex takes in the smudged-grey of the black, military issue garb Hunter is dressed in. The way his hands are jammed into his pockets.

Rex blinks.

‘I’m not a Captain anymore’ he huffs, ‘Haven’t been for a while’ he can see how the elements have aged into Hunter’s skin, he looks skinnier as if he hasn’t eaten in a while. The skull tattoo is fading over time, Rex can hardly see it.

‘You were’ Hunter was always a bit more pragmatic than the rest. _The Bad Batch._

‘Where’s the Batch?’ Rex asks and Hunter chuckles, a sparse sound. Rex wonders where they landed their ship, assuming they still have one. He saw nothing come in from where he was faced, however they could have arrived much earlier when he was busy.

‘Most of them? Asleep. Crosshair is over there in the rock-side. Just in case’ Hunter shrugs, and Rex appreciates the honesty, even if it makes him doubt how quick he could shoot if Crosshair has him in the scope. ‘You got out. So did we. Barely. I’m not here for the Empire. I am here for someone I respected once up at time’ Hunter rumbles, and he takes his hands out of his jacket to hold them out, asking for a friendship Rex doesn’t know if he can give.

‘I’m glad you and your boys are alive, Hunter, but I’m not sure what you want here’

He thinks of Echo.

He thinks of Fives.

He thinks of _Jesse._ Karking, damnit, Jesse.

He thinks of… all of them.

‘I wouldn’t mind some Meilroon juice’ he grins, quick and sharp, head tilting. Still wearing that ridiculous bandana it seems, now over grey and silver hair.

‘And I might give you some if you tell me what you are _really_ doing here,’ Rex says, and Hunter sighs heavily, as if he doesn’t want to say something but figures his best shot might be to do so.

‘It’s hard for us. We don’t want asylum. I won’t come back if you ask me to go but there aren’t many of _us_ left. I think beside us you might do some good. Again’

He says _us_ meaning clones that overrode their orders, that didn’t get turned into canon fodder for the Empire.

‘I haven’t got many years left in me, Hunter’ because that isn’t a no, he doesn’t want to say no…

‘None of us have. Sir’

Rex takes his hand off his blaster and squeezes it into a fist.

‘I’m not-‘ he never has liked repeating himself, and Hunter nods.

‘I know. But you were. You _were_ one of the best strategists in the GAR. Cody told us of you. He is… was proud of you’ Hunter corrects himself, and now that he is closer Rex can see the remorse in the jut of his jaw, of how he is holding himself differently. ‘Like I said,’ the voice that comes back is bolder, colder, ‘You were an asset. But Rex-‘ he looks around, takes in the open fields of well kept crops and a lived-in shack of a home, ‘-Farming, really? A man of your talents?’.

‘You sound disappointed’ Rex replies, ghosting a grin. ‘It’s a peaceful life’

‘Lonely I’d imagine’ Hunter balks, ‘You were on the verge of greatness as a Commander. You were this close. And you gave it all up?’

‘I didn’t give up’ he snaps, the fire he remembers from the battlefield comes pulsing back, piercing and fierce, ‘But it sure as shit seemed like there wasn’t much to fight for anymore.’

Hunter scowls at him, ‘I don’t believe that’s true. And I don’t think you do either’ he says, and Rex grits his teeth.

‘Maybe. But that’s not the point anymore’

Hunter comes to stand mostly in front of him, and he looks to the space on the porch. Rex slides himself to the right and mumbles, ‘By all means’ and Hunter sits, holding his arms over his knees.

‘Nice long-blaster.’ He comments lightly, not looking, and Rex forgets Hunter’s attuned senses, the fact that unlike Rex, he has been more active and his particular skillset hasn’t gone unused. He wonders if Hunter can smell the tibanna cartridge. ‘I guess not much to shoot around here’.

Rex snorts, ‘Not recently no. You were the first for a long time’ he says and Hunter smirks.

‘Eh, no offense, but you’ll be dead before you could move. You are still on sights’

‘You were just giving me compliments and now you insult me?’ he asks, and Hunter rubs a hand across his jaw, poised in thought.

‘Must be getting rusty’ he murmurs and Rex looks away from him.

‘It’s good to see you. I mean that’ he says more to the expanse beyond him, than the man beside him. ‘I’ll get you a cup of juice.’ He looks up towards the rock-side and aims a slow wave, indicating his movements.

Bleeding out on his porch isn’t how he wants to go.

He sees a flash, a glint, and takes that as acceptance from Crosshair, leaving Hunter on the step, walking into he darker depths of his home; and gets him a cup, pouring him some juice. He wanders back, holds the glass out above Hunter’s shoulder, lets him take it before he sits. He sits back down and Hunter raps his knuckles against Rex’s shoulder – right where his pauldron would be, right where the rap would sound against white-plastoid.

‘You aren’t coming back with me, are you’ Hunter states after taking a careful sip, and then a more generous one when he appears to like it.

‘No’ Rex shakes his head. ‘Not now’ he says and doesn’t miss the minor startle in Hunter’s frame, nor the victorious grin that sits scarcely on his mouth.

‘I’ll take that.’ He agrees, even if he sounds less than glad about the result. ‘Want me to tell Echo anything?’ Hunter asks and Rex stills.

‘Just tell him hello’

‘Riveting’ Hunter murmurs, the sarcasm stretches and launches back into a void.

‘Write him a poem then on your way back’ the words aren’t biting, he means it more in jest, and Hunter looks at him sideways.

‘I don’t think he’ll like that. Not from me at least’ Rex rolls his eyes towards the beam of the doorway. ‘He wanted to come, but his seizures are still going on.. not as bad’ he says hurriedly when Rex glowers, ‘But they are happening. And Tech was insistent on his bed-rest’.

Rex swallows on nothing that could be an attempt at his own solitude. Hunter finishes the last of the juice and presses the cup into his palms, no doubt feeling the cold material. He puts it down on the step and heaves himself to a standing position.

‘I won’t preach. I can’t.’ he reaches down and unbuttons a pocket on his pants, retrieving a silver commlink chip with an etched number on it. He holds it out to Rex, and as Rex lifts a hand to take it, Hunter grasps it, solidly. ‘If you change your mind.’ he says, ‘Although don’t take too long,’ he adds, knowingly.

‘Vi an morut't got birov years payt’ _We all haven't got many years left._

Hunter’s chuckle is low, ‘You haven’t forgotten your Mando’a. Tech owes me’ he smirks and Rex kicks out at him, ineffectual of doing any real harm and Hunter sways away from him.

‘Take care of yourself, Hunter’

‘Cuyir kovid, alor'ad’ _Be strong, Captain._

Rex allows himself smile, doesn’t try to correct him. Hunter salutes him, two-fingered and informal, and Rex shakes his head. The man takes one step backwards, then another, and twists on his heel to finally turn his back to Rex and begin his journey back to wherever their ship is. Rex watches him go until he cannot see him at all anymore. And unlike earlier, Rex feels discernibly more alone.

Rex looks down at the commlink number chip, turns it over and over between his trigger-finger and thumb.

He curls it into his hand safely, snares the cup from the step and heads indoors finally. He uncovers his armour, touches the blue and white piled neatly in the corner, and places the chip next to his arm-gauntlets. He re-covers it.

Standing the middle of the room Rex wills the hand he had touched the armour with to stop shaking.

He moves once it does.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos & comment, and come annoy me on twitter - https://twitter.com/firstimperial_


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